At last
by WhataBird
Summary: Cromwell is in love with the Irish Noble Woman Lady Sadb, but since he is of low birth he doesn't allow himself to think of her that way, for they can never be together. Will these star-crossed lovers find happiness in the end? Slightly AU
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _

_This may not be historically accurate, well actually, I am pretty sure this is not at all accurate – however, this is not a history book for Uni, but a work of fiction, specifically a fanfiction. Fanfictions are here to play out the scenarios I as a fangirl didn't see on the show, but would have loved to. So I do apologize for any pain I cause to history students, but I guess they wouldn't watch 'The Tudors' in the first place._

_Secondly: I do not own any characters of the Tudors and all that. I own nothing. All belongs to the BBC, Michael Hirst and whoever else was important and responsible for this awesome show. I created the character of Lady Sadb (which is pronounced _/saiv/, _it's an Irish name) yet feel free to use her, in fact I would be flattered if you do._

I think that our favourite Secretary only had to deal with all the non-fun, serious stuff and he really needed a little love and also a nice little romp of his own. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! And please review if you have a minute to spare :)

Prologue / Setting

King Henry VIII, Edward Seymour, Thomas Cromwell and some other important statesmen are in Ireland (before Henry VIII became King of Ireland in 1542). Lord Conan, of the O'Brien Clan is acting as ruling monarch, yet actually his daughter Lady Sadb manages all the stately affairs._  
>(Sadb is pronounced 'sive', like the word five but with a 's' instead of an 'f'. It means "sweet, goodly" in Irish Gaelic.)<em>  
>Lord Conan is quite uncontrollable and borderline insane, very moody and hard to deal with. So Cromwell always talks to his daughter, who is, if not in title, but in rank, like a princess. Under the guise of pleasant talk, these two, Cromwell and Lady Sadb handle the business of the country.<p>

**Chapter 1**

"Great, we're in Ireland, this bitch of a country. I loathe to be here, Lord Hertford. If only we could set sail again and leave this godforsaken place, but look at them, look at those two, blabbing away all afternoon with no end in sight! Oh, I swear, if it weren't for that bloody rebellious treacherous Irish bastards maybe supporting the men in our North, I would drag Cromwell from this filthy isle myself this very bloody instant. Ugh, just look at them! Yak yak yak. How much can there be to talk about!" Henry rolled his eyes and made a 180 degree turn.  
>"And just look around you! It's all so, so green and … Irish! And so boring! I swear, there is nothing to do around here than to get hammered or to die. There is a reason why all the Irish are raging alcoholics. Mark my words, Lord Hertford." the King tipped his nose and continued to stare at his surroundings.<br>Henry was in a foul mood as ever and Lord Hertford was smart enough not to say anything in return. It was actually quite pleasant here, they were out in the open, the weather was warm and agreeable, the wine was good and all there had to do was wait around for Cromwell to end his chat with Lord O'Brien's daughter.  
>He could do worse, Lord Hertford decided and so held his tongue and continued to watch the 'nobility' of Ireland scatter around, making themselves agreeable to the English Lords and Dukes and what have you. Edward Seymour inwardly snorted, "Irish nobility! More a bunch of Gaelic villagers trying to be something they were clearly not meant to be." Tomorrow, he had to attend an assembly with all of them and he resented to attend that event. What was there to be said? How could one even talk to people so decidedly beneath himself?<p>

KKK

Edward entered the room where the assembly was to take place. He was early, of course, but he was always early. One had to be on top of the game, always prepared and focused. Never to lose focus, maybe that could be said to be his motto. He walked about the room, looked out of the windows and wondered why Cromwell wasn't here as well. He, as well as him, was the type to be over-prepared and to turn up one hour early just in case, just to arrange everything to his satisfaction. However, no sign of Cromwell. He brushed through his light brown hair and picked off some lint from his attire. It was important to look the part of an earl and never to let oneself go. He caught his reflection in a window pane and was pleased. He did look handsome enough, yes, more handsome than the King himself. Reassured, he turned away from his image only to find somebody else in the room with him.  
>It was Lady Sadb O'Brien, the daughter of Lord O'Brien, and effectively the heir to the Protectorship of the Irish Isles. She bowed her head gracefully and greeted him: "Your Lordship." He bowed shortly as well, but well, this was ridiculous. She was Irish for god's sake and thus her 'nobility' was nothing more than a play on words. He was in fact quite irritated to be alone with confused him slightly and he did not like to be not 100% in control. For an Irish woman, she was surprisingly classy, well educated, of a prudent and rational mind. No wonder she and Cromwell got along so well. Also, she was not entirely vile to look at. In fact, she looked rather pleasing he thought somewhere in a well hidden corner of his mind. She had regular features, strawberry blonde hair and even though she had freckles on her cheeks and nose, which were absolutely not part of the ideal of beauty of Tudor England, it, well, … it it suited her. And she had a nice smile and good teeth. Edward liked women with good teeth and always took good care of his own ones. He realised that he had started to stare at her which made Lady Sadb quite uncomfortable, although she pretended not to notice it. She tried to pass the time by small talk, yet to no avail. He merely grunted a reply to her remark about the fine weather they were enjoying while their stay in Ireland and that was that. Lord Hertford couldn't bring himself to talk to her, as if she was a person of his rank, his status, an equal! She was so very much below him! He should and could and ought not to. Fancy an Irish woman! He nearly snorted out aloud, for the thought was just to plain ridiculous. Nevertheless, he continued to stare at her a good deal, drawn to her face for reasons unknown to him.<br>In silence they waited for the other members of the assembly to arrive.

KKK

Cromwell always wondered at the peculiar state of things at the Irish Court. That is was common knowledge to everyone that Lord O'Brien was completely useless in terms of politics, that his daughter (a woman, good Lord!) would step in and rise to the task and that it was generally tolerated and accepted, yet of course never acknowledged.

He admired Lady Sadb for her ability to both handle politics and to endure the state of permanent non-appreciation of her ideas, of her doings. He more than admired her. He was in love with her. Utterly. Completely. Of course, it was never meant to be. How could it be? He was of so low birth, a mere commoner, playing in the realm of the nobility, and she was the equivalent to a princess. This could never be and to think about it made him so sad, that he had banned every thought of it into the deepest, most hidden places of his mind, never (well almost never) to be revisited. Left there to be forgotten. However, for fate is a cruel mistress, unbeknownst to him, Lady Sadb felt the same way. She was in love with him as he was in love with her.

KKK

In the evening after the assembly, Cromwell and Edward Seymour sat together by the fire, the King had gone off to bang some random lady in waiting. Seymour was always a bit intimidated by Cromwell due to his intellect, however, fortunately Cromwell was of low birth and so, Hertford couldn't feel too bad as he was a bloody earl. Cromwell took a sip from his goblet of wine and stared into the flames.  
>"So, what do you think of our progress here?", he asked Edward.<br>"I guess it's alright, considering it's Ireland we're talking about. I cannot believe this god forsaken place is in effect run by a lunatic like that Conan bugger. That this country is still independent surprises me to no end."  
>"Well, it is not entirely run by Lord Conan and you as everyone else know that.", replied Cromwell, furrowing his brow lightly."Mmh, there is that, of course", Edward acknowledged thoughtfully. They went silent for a couple of minutes, both occupied with their own thoughts.<br>After a while, Cromwell turned around to Edward:" So..., what do you think of the Lady O'Brien?"  
>Edward didn't quite know what to say. There was something about that lady yet she was not his equal and what could be said of those people anyway? Yet, he also didn't want to give offence to her openly, as they were still on this bloody isle and also because Cromwell did seem to respect her. "Well, Master Cromwell, she is Irish.", Edward managed to say, which was quite enough to be said and also nothing at all.<br>Cromwell smiled and turned his head back towards the warm flames of the fire. He exhaled softly:  
>"I think she is a jewel. If it were not for my low birth, I would not care if she was from the end of the world. I've never met a woman where both wits and beauty were so happily balanced."<p>

What was said surprised not only Edward, but also himself. Why did he confess this to Edward Seymour? The man was nothing to him, and Lord Hertford most certainly saw Cromwell many steps below himself. An awkward silence set in where both men mused over the words which were just said. Edward was irritated by Cromwell's comment an congratulated himself for being an earl and not in such a desperate place as Cromwell, to fancy a woman he well knew he could never touch.  
>"Well", Edward tried to somehow reply to Cromwell's statement, but found himself in no position to do so. They weren't friends and certainly had never shared an intimate moment like that before. "Well, ...she is, .."<p>

"Forgive me", Cromwell's words broke the the silence, "it was the wine talking. I bid you a good night, Lord Hertford."  
>"Master Cromwell", Edward nodded and for a split second, Cromwell seemed to see something in the earl's eye which almost looked like understanding. Yet, maybe it was only the reflection of the flames caught in the earl's eye and he left the room, embarrassed and regretful to have given so much away of his most private thoughts.<p>

KKK

"So you now will leave this beautiful island of ours once again, Master Cromwell", Lady Sadb smiled at him. As it was Court procedure, Lady Sadb was not allowed to the official farewell session held by Lord O'Brien and thus, her and Cromwell had developed a ritual of their own over the years, bidding each other farewell in her drawing rooms. They both enjoyed that one tiny intimate moment, for all the servants were at the grand farewell audience in the grand hall and it was just her and him - at least for a couple of minutes until an usher would come to take Cromwell away.

"It was as always very pleasant to see you and talk to you", he smiled a beautiful warm smile and looked at her, then lowered his gaze. He expected an equally warm goodbye, yet this time...

Lady Sadb takes a step closer to Cromwell and lays her hand on one of his hands, which are softly folded over his chest. She presses his warm hand gently and looks at him. Cromwell is quite confounded by her sudden touch, his heart pounding in his chest. He stares at her, confused, breathless.  
>"Thomas", she whispers and raises an hand to rest on his cheek. Lightly caressing his ear and cheek, she breathes irregularly. She is close to tears and her hands tremble a bit.<br>"I know", he hears her say and the full extent of his love and respect for her washes over him. His insides feel twisted and ache, he feels like having a white hot iron inside of him.  
>Yet she continues to stroke his face and the pressure of her hand on his increases ever so slightly. She looks up into his agonised eyes, with eyes wet with tears, with a look so...<br>And then he knows.

He knows that she loves him, loves him as much as he loves her and he cannot believe his fate, cannot believe this moment, this – her! affection, but there it is, right in front of him, longing for him the same way as he longs for her.  
>"My Lady!", with a trembling voice he brings their intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses her hand, most ardently, most gentle, most lovingly, and she smiles, smiles from under a veil of tears and laughs, which rather sounds like crying. And then they both gaze at each other, oblivious to the world around them.<br>Her hand wanders down from his face and finds his other hand and just as he did moments ago, she kisses it, as it were the most precious, the most delicate thing in the world. With entangled hands, one entangled human being made of two stands there and breathes trembling in unison.

"My Lady. I have to go". Cromwell's voice nearly breaks, for he feels his heart might.  
>She nods and releases his hands from their warm embrace and he bows and smiles the saddest smile in the world. She smiles and nods again, releasing him formally.<br>"I look forward to speaking to you next time you're on our Green Isle", Lady Sadb manages to say.  
>He bows again and both their hearts break as he closes the door behind him.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

2 years have passed since Cromwell and Lady Sadb last saw each other.  
>Lady Sadb knew that life was supposed to go on, but actually, how could it go on the way it used to after that moment she had shared with Thomas? For a small fracture in time, she had been allowed to have her heart's desire, only to have it taken from her mere minutes later. When she thought back to that now unreal moment in time, she had to sit down for it literally took her breath away.<br>It had been the most exquisite moment of her life.  
>Sometimes, very late at night when the whole world was fast asleep, she was woken up by a tingly sensation right there where his lips had touched her hand. Then she couldn't help herself, couldn't fight anymore, couldn't resist. She was so tired of the constant need to keep up decorum, to keep her countenance, to act as nothing had ever happened to her, that not her whole world was blown to smithereens by that violent urge to be with Thomas Cromwell, a mere commoner and not her equal in rank, yet more than her equal in mind. To pretend that she was happy with her life at court and her life being completely governed by tradition and rules and wretched propriety.<br>And then she started to cry, cried herself to sleep only to wake up to a miserably wet, tear soaked pillow which made her ladies in waiting look at her confused and rather suspiciously.

It was a nice day in June when Lay Sadb, enjoying a walk through her gardens with her ladies in waiting, finally realised what she had to do.  
>On that day in June she decided to not allow herself to think about him anymore.<p>

XXX

Cromwell returned to England yet the details of his return seemed to be rather blurry. "This does not matter", he thought. "The ship, the sea, the wind and waves, the King, the earl, anyone. This all does not matter." Cromwell alternated between utterly rejoicing in their mutual love, that she, the wonderful Lady Sadb deemed him worthy of her love and respect, - and also despair, for what was it worth to know of love but to never feel its touch?  
>Cromwell felt betrayed by fate, mocked and ridiculed – to find out that his love was not unrequited, that the Lady Sadb loved him back – loved him! And then to accept that this - their love, his love, didn't matter.<p>

Thomas Cromwell was the second most influential man in England, he was Secretary of State and reported only to the King himself. If somebody had a solution for anything, it was Cromwell. If there was a problem, he would solve it. If there was an obstacle he would eliminate it. He was a brilliant thinker and highly capable, he was influential and discreet – but now, now his hands were bound. There was nothing he could do, no solution to this dilemma and it nearly drove him mad!

The days went by coated by the same haze, a thick fog of pointlessness which was threatening to suffocate him. For a long time, he had successfully suppressed, yes – banned! - his feelings for her into the last, most forgotten corner of his mind and he had managed, had he not? And now? He didn't manage at all. He merely functioned, but when the day's work was over and Henry had spent all his breath to complain and wish for extravaganza and order this or that and when even the King was – for a fleeting moment - satisfied, then Cromwell closed to door of his office, turned the key twice, went home to his empty house and locked himself in his library. And when all the books in it were read and re-read and re-re-read, and all philosophical thoughts were pondered...then, then she entered his mind, appearing before him as crystal clear as on that one day nearly 2 years ago, and he couldn't stop thinking of her. The look in her eyes that he could never forget, that faint smell of lilac now inseparable interwoven with the thought of her, the rhythm in which his heart had been beating, that most beautiful irregularity.

XXX

"My dearest daughter", Lord O'Brien boomed and she whole court applauded politely. "I have good news for you! Nay, not only you, but for all of us and all of Christendom!" Lord Conan laughed a roaring laugh and clapped his enormous hands. Her father was a rather tall and large man and demanded attention not unlike Henry Tudor. They were not alone in the grand hall and when he had finished his short speech, he winked at the young sleek looking man next to him. The preppy and smooth young man was the Prince of Italy and Lord Conan loved the Italians. "True Catholics", he would often say while laying his arm around her shoulder, with a rather knowing twinkle in his eye.  
>Dark eyes sized her up immediately and came after a couple of seconds to an apparently satisfying result. The Prince grinned at her brazenly and took her hand: "My Lady. Let me introduce myself to you. I am Prince Eugenio from the North of Italia and I must say you are the blossoming wildflower everyone describes you to be. Be assured of my deepest regard for you and your beautiful green country. I hope, in due time, we will get to know each other better. Or, I dare say," with a look at Lord Conan, "very well." Again his gaze inspected her in an impertinent way before his lips touched her hand. The same hand that...in a different lifetime...<p>

She felt sick to her stomach. No. A wave of impotent anger washed over her and a white hot rage built up in her stomach. No. With wide eyes she stared at her father to rebut this proposition of the Italian Prince, to stop this intrusion, to stop this all from happening. However, Lord Conan didn't look at her but smiled benignly at Prince Eugenio as he patted him on the shoulder. When his eyes finally turned to hers he only nodded curtly and then turned to the Italian Congregation which had waited patiently in the background. "It is settled then!", Lord Conan boomed and the whole great hall filled with happy laughter and applause.

The world started to spin and everything went blurry. Her head told her to make a run for it. If she could just leave this hall, the castle, she could run into the woods...and and then maybe to... to...  
>No. No no no. No, not now not this moment, not now not ever.<br>Not him.

She stood there, transfixed on the spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. But no, she wasn't screaming. She simply lost the ground beneath her feet and started to slump down like a log of wood. Prince Eugenio came to her rescue and seeing this as an affirmation of her happiness, he caught her gallantly in his arms and propped her up again. "Oh My Lady, we will have a lot of fun!" he whispered hoarsely into her ears.  
>And now, now that dreaded moment had come: any minute now her father would announce that she was to marry the Italian Noble and Preserver of the Faith, Prince Eugenio.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The weeks flew by yet Lady Sadb still couldn't believe what was happening to her. She had always known that when the time came for her to marry it would not be her own choosing but the choice of her father. Her marriage would be a union of two kingdoms, two realms of power. She had always accepted that as a part of her privileged life as a princess, a duty she had to perform, a sacrifice she had to give for living such a sheltered and agreeable life. But she had never anticipated that her heart would have already been taken, that there was no heart left for her to give to her new husband. She wished to be a good daughter and a loving wife but now she found herself in no position to fulfil these demands. Her heart was not hers anymore to give away freely but was in the safe possession of the English Secretary of State. There was not even a tiny bit left which she could give to Prince Eugenio. She almost regretted this for it would make her new life so much easier and agreeable if she could feel a hint of affection for Eugenio. Although the Prince was vain, he was not a cruel or disagreeable man. He liked to make Lady Sadb laugh and sometimes looked at her in a way that she knew he'd not only saw her as a new possession but actually really fancied her. It would be so much easier to let herself fall in love with him but she just couldn't. It was all Cromwell's. It was his all along.

XXX

"Master Cromwell, I hear ill news.", Henry bristled with anger in the general direction of his Secretary. "Why was I not informed earlier of this untoward alliance of that Irish lass Lady Sadb and that Italian upstart Prince Eugenio?"

Cromwell's insides constricted. Not also this, on top of that cherry pie that was his life right now. Granted, he should have informed the King earlier of this alliance, should have made him aware of the opportunity which arose for the English crown to swoop in and grab Ireland for itself. A suitor, carefully selected by the King and Cromwell himself, should have been presented to Lord Conan, one who would have outweighed that Italian buffoon in wealth and prospect, and also one who was not only loyal to the English crown but also controllable.  
>Yet alas, Cromwell couldn't do it. He couldn't arrange for it because he couldn't stand the notion that some moronic English nobleman was to besmirch his beautiful Lady, that he would have to see her at court functions in attendance with her new husband, that she would be forever in his presence but also a thousand miles apart from him. He couldn't do it and so he made his first 'flub', his first 'mistake' and 'forgot' to send a suitor to Ireland. It was not an easy decision to be made for Henry's anger and fury were dangerous and more often than not deathly. However, in the end Cromwell deemed it worse to live a life perpetually next to Lady Sadb instead of with her than to suffer the King's rage and its potential consequences. At least in this version of hell the torment would not be forever but only as long until the axe stroke would hit him.<p>

Henry was furious, "Well, Master Cromwell, I'm waiting. What is your explanation for this omission?"  
>"Your Majesty, it was not an omission at all. I deliberately didn't send a suitor." Cromwell heard the King inhale sharply and just hoped that Henry would not explode before he had finished his desperate ruse. "Why should your Majesty be pleased with an indirect rule over such an insignificant place as Ireland? Why be constrained to the intelligence of a servant of your Highness? If his royal Highness should even consider such a godforsaken place it should surely be only as direct and absolute Sovereign?"<p>

Cromwell was well aware what kind of game he was playing and could only hope that Henry would be appeased with it for the moment and not investigate further into this option. To rob Sadb of her country would be something he would never forgive himself. Henry glared at Cromwell suspiciously. One could almost see his mind checking and validating the claims his Secretary had made, weighing the evidence for and against such a plan. After a couple of minutes, Henry exhaled deeply and slapped Cromwell on the back. "Cromwell, you sly fox. You almost had me doubting you for a moment."  
>Cromwell relaxed inwardly, "Your Majesty. I am only your humble servant."<br>"So, Cromwell, tell me about this plan of yours."  
>Cromwell had to buy some time, he needed the King to not be so eager about this new venture.<br>"Yes, your Majesty, but could we first talk about your revenue from the dissolved monasteries?"  
>He knew that if something would distract Henry, it would be talking about his profits.<p>

XXX

The whole Irish Court was illuminated, every room ablazed with light in celebration of the Lady Sadb's marriage. Luscious flower arrangements in white, green and orange and red were placed in every corner and golden intertwined bands were hanging from the ceiling, sparkling enchantingly. Cromwell marched unfazed through the beautifully decorated hall – he'd rather found it in a desolate state and pitch black. This was not a cause for celebration. It was a cause for mourning.

Why could he not marry her?, he kept repeating in his mind. He was an honourable and able man, he could provide for her. More than that. He could shower her with gifts. He would. He would love and honour her. They could be truly happy. They would be truly happy. She was his love.  
>He was hers.<br>She would make him happier than any other person alive could ever be. He would spent the rest of his life to thank her for that. But because he was unfortunate enough to be born a commoner, the son of a sooty blacksmith, he was not allowed to even think of her in that way! A small, tiny word in front of his name would make all the difference though. _Lord_ Cromwell. And suddenly he could tell her all that he felt, could cup her face with his hands, kiss her tenderly. He could touch her and hold her in his arms, he could make love to her until she moaned with delight. She could bare his children and he could kiss her every morning before he went to work. She could be the last thing he sees as night.

But no. There was no word in front of his name, hence his hands touched only air and the last thing he saw at night was only darkness.  
>There were things Thomas Cromwell despised even more than papacy and all the superstitious rites of Catholicism - hierarchy of rank. A man should be judged by his abilities and not by the circumstances of his birth.<p>

XXX

The whole court of England attended the wedding, this lusciously elaborate wedding, all in honour of the Great Catholic Alliance which was to take place.  
>"Our Faith stands strong and will prevail" was written across a large and heavy tapestry, beautifully stitched in fine golden and silver threads. Hanging over the entrance of the chapel, it greeted the guests from afar and silenced all critical voices which were not that happy about a Great Catholic Alliance as the Irish and the Italians.<p>

"But how should I prevail?"Lady Sadb thought to herself. She knew that Thomas would have to attend the wedding and she couldn't bare the thought of him being there, witnessing her marrying somebody, being forced to comply to the wishes of the Irish Court. Serving her country.  
>How could she look into his eyes and touch his hand when he would congratulate her on her wedding – her wedding! - knowing the way these hands once had touched hers, knowing that it should be his hand that hers should be joined with. It seemed impossible.<p>

XXX

The ceremony went by in a blur. She remembered to walk down the aisle and join hands with Prince Eugenio. She remembered his warm touch and the scent of sandalwood. She remembered to frantically avoid looking at the audience for fear of meeting his gaze because this, she could not stand. And so she kept staring at the priest and at Eugenio which pleased the Prince, her father and the guests tremendously for she seemed to be smitten with her new husband.  
>"She can't take his eyes of him. What a good lass! She gives it her all for Ireland.", Lord Conan whispered fondly to his ministers.<p>

After they were proclaimed husband and wife, Prince Eugenio took a step forward and made a deep bow. "Most graceful Princes, rulers of glorious Kingdoms! Your Graces and Lordships! I thank thee to witness this most precious and important of moments – the joining of a man and a woman and thus the joining of two countries, two realms of true Power and true Faith!" A murmur went through the crowd and King Henry started to twitch nervously and narrowed his eyes. A declaration of a 'true faith' was not only a quite explosive topic, it was also an incredibly foolish one. Sadb groaned inwardly about the stupidity and foolhardiness of her husband. He was not half the diplomat she was.  
>"He is not half the politician she is", Cromwell thought. He so could not hold a candle to her. The Prince would sooner lose his head than anticipated when giving speeches like that!<br>"How dare that little upstart besmirch the Church of England!" Henry was fuming. This was not to be borne! This would have consequences!  
>"For a long time, Ireland has enjoyed way too much leniency from me, the most fair and most merciful of all Princes!", Henry was thinking to himself and tried to make out Cromwell in the crowd to give him a subtle sign that he needed to talk to his Secretary of State. Stat! However, since they all were at that damn wedding ceremony and also in a House of God – "blessed be his Grace and also I, Head of the Church of England!" - Henry and also no one else would start trouble here. And that little Italian parvenu knew that all too well. So all they could do was to continue to listen to Prince Eugenio, intrigued at what he had to say next.<p>

In this most impossible of all moments their eyes met for the first time in two years. It should have felt awkward and distant yet in fact, it feels warm and familiar. Not a day seemed to have passed since the two said their goodbyes in her drawing room. Not a single feeling had changed. On the brink of starting her new life, her former life, her true life, presented itself vividly before her.  
>She is standing on the steps of the altar, a few steps behind her new husband while he stands in the rows of attending English guests. Her heart pauses, cannot process this moment, nearly fails to recuperate.<br>He looks at her and sees only her. He remembers every thought he had of her. Every instant he had to suppress his feelings. And now, now he cannot take his eyes of her, cannot stop himself thinking of her, cannot stop himself from being overwhelmed.  
>All is lost.<br>Even more lost than it was before.  
>She will forget him, he is sure of it.<br>Yet her love stands strong, stands in the middle of the room, something tangible like an entity. Cromwell thinks it absurd that nobody else notices it. Their gaze never lose the one of the other and their affection for each other towers over Prince Eugenio, over the Irish Court and also over the possible itself.

Edward Seymour, standing next to Cromwell notices this incident. In spite of himself, he is impressed and this perplexes him. How can he be impressed by this? By something which flies in the face of tradition, of propriety! This largeness. This liveliness against all possible odds. They flaunt it in front of everyone and they don't even seem to care!  
>"They are bloody lucky that her fool of a husband is antagonising most of the wedding guests."<br>Against his will and reason, Edward Seymour stares transfixed on their wordless communication, on this impossible display of regard for one another. Regretting his own poor choices, he thinks back to his his own wife, to the woman he had married all these years ago and tried to remember if there ever was something between him and Anne which was remotely comparable to this. Ashamed of the result of his pondering, he frees his gaze from Cromwell and Lady Sadb and concentrates on the ongoing tirade of Prince Eugenio.


End file.
